I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. The way you love someone, and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in, and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home. Or party. Your grocery list. The food you make. How your writing looks. And the way you feel. Life is art.

September Mood: dark chocolate desserts, reading XVIII century love letters, flea markets, last rose flowers, foggy evenings, long bubble baths, journaling every night, nostalgic train rides, wandering in libraries and bookshops.

"I'm not very good at making specific plans. Just meet me under the sky somewhere and be alive with me."

—Victoria Erickson

" It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible when we are young, dear reader. "

- Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

Sunrise in Alice Springs NT, Australia (2023)

do you ever laugh with your friends and think oh this is the point. this is the point of everything

Nie możesz powiedzieć, że mnie znasz, jeżeli nigdy nie rozmawiałeś ze mną w nocy.

“If you knew how hard it was, and how long it took, to rebuild my little universe of peace and happiness then you would understand why I’m so picky about who I allow in my life.”

— Weird People

“Sometimes you have to lose your mind before you come to your senses.”

— Socrates

“I’ve been thinking too much, help me.”

— Twenty-One Pilots, “Ride”

“W Tobie się gubię na moment, w Tobie się gubię na miesiąc, kwartał, wieczność.”

- taconafide

czuję już twój dotyk niemal

tylko ty mnie umiesz włączyć

“Twoje biodra są jak winyl, więc jeszcze je kręć”

-Taco Hemingway

Your skin was poetry to me. To understand it was depth, to feel it was a heaviness. You can feel in love or fall in love, one day you will understand the difference.

words by dominic riccitello

i dive between your lips how i love to feel melancholy bliss words seem to exist between short breaths i gasp forth for dances in forests between rocks and saltwater we revel in a deepened madness one which was casually frolicked through shaded by versions of you loss of your rear view mirror words which broke became clearer things said shift forward like the years in the corner broken breaths in the distance lips on your neck such aggressive fingers i transcend in danger linger between hello and beaux things make sense if you let them we take two words and form meaning you either listen or you move position it was always hello even if our conditions never listened tongues never twisted and i never met you francisco

48 words by dominic riccitello